Divinity Absconding

Author's note:

If you enjoyed my short story, Wives from Among Women, I believe you'll like this one too! We're heading back to Ancient Greece, where Cy must choose tradition, or lose any potential inheritance from his devout father. This story explores the themes of tradition, divinity and the true meaning of home.

Cy stumbled through the dense throng of celebrants, who filled his family's streets with cheers and shouts and abrasive smells that the freedmen were often shrouded in. He ducked into the temple and clutched his tunic tighter against the crowd, a thick wall of wine vapors washing over him. The celebrants had found their way, even here, and were pouring libations among themselves while huddled around the pooled torch lights.

A cup was offered by a generous hand but he refused, slipping into the open courtyard of the Acropolis, where the celebrations had not yet penetrated.

Cy could breathe better here, under the rich spring foliage.

He looked up at the stars, wondering. Even his father was adamant the gods existed. How could he not be? Proud Apollo stood watch at their gates, his cold marble eyes threatening to pierce the passerby with deadly arrows.

When the celebrations commenced come morning, the city would be calm again.

But not for Cy. He had to

decide

, and soon.

He pivoted on his sandals in a slow rotation, studying each face of the pantheon in turn. Twelve stared down at him, and if he squinted just so, he could trick himself into thinking the marble flesh might move. Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Demeter, Dionysus, and the rest stood vigil over him. Beautiful Aphrodite held his attention the longest. He wondered what it would be like to commit to her, and laughed aloud.

She was beautiful, yes. And extraordinarily petty.

The quandary left him ill. He tore his gaze from the statues to pace through the abandoned hall of Hephaistos. Beyond the pillars was the forest in which he intended to make his escape. He'd have to decide but not tonight.

Cy shook his head.

Certainly not tonight.

The dark woods welcomed him, the canopy not thick enough to block out moon's light. Here, he could almost imagine the gods existed, so far removed from the cool marble enclosures.

There were no demanding priests pressuring him to accept a patron god. Many chose to commit themselves to none but not the sons of the Athens. It was expected, in the quiet tradition, and if he couldn't choose, he would be cast out by his twentieth birthday, stripped of all claim to his inheritance and any titles that it implied.

Cy would become little more than a freedman.

A fresh wind swept through his tunic from the north, chilling him to the bone. Surely, it was a simple thing, to choose the ease of his life over the struggles of the lower class. It's not as if the gods existed. So, he didn't understand why he hesitated.

The leaves rustled around him. A breeze tugged on his cloak.

Frisson passed over him, sending his hair on end with the excitement. The air seemed charged for a storm, and it made Cy feel truly alive.

And then the lights came, pale blue specs dancing aimlessly around him.

He didn't have time to marvel when he saw

her

, dashing through the trees which yielded in silent devotion. She was massively tall, nearly twice his height, and entirely nude. Her skin made the soft lights flare when they came near her and he could feel the weight of her sobs in his own chest.

She paid him no mind at all, passing within a handspan.

Cy could not keep his eyes off her as she flitted into the darkness, hands concealing her face as she wept. Her long dark tresses cut through the night behind her. His nose burned like he'd come too close to flames, and he wavered on his feet. Very soon, she was out of sight, a trail of confused illumination drifting in her wake, and where she had stepped, grape leaves sprouted.

He realized he'd forgotten to breathe.

There were no words to contain his awe.

Was she a spirit? A nymph? He'd never heard of a nymph so large. A titan, perhaps? But most of their lot was ensnared, if the literature held any truth.

Cy followed the impressive path she'd left behind. Even as the lights dimmed, he found it effortless to follow the new growth. He wasn't sure what he'd find, at the end of it but his curiosity left all else behind.

Over hillocks and under fallen trees did he navigate, his decorated sandals not up for the task. He considered tearing them off when he found her, quite asleep, and quite normally sized, in a bed of freshly sprouted grape leaves.

She could have passed as mortal but he was not deceived.

He recognized the soft curves of her hips and the gentle slope of her shoulders. It was the very same woman who had taken his breath away. He had never met a goddess before but had the sense that if the gods did exist, she must be one of them.

But her countenance, when he approached to study it, was not familiar.

She had donned a precious pout before curling into the growth, a slender arm thrown over her eyes as if the world offended her. Her breasts, he tried not to stare too long at but he had caught the supple shape of her, and knew this was a goddess he could pledge himself to.

How to go about it, though?

Cy reeled with the possibilities, falling upon the most rational. He tore free his cloak and approached as one would a wild animal, fully alert. It helped that the lights had abated, and she appeared, for all intents and purposes, mortal.

At any moment, she could rise and smite him. He was certain of it.

But her breathing was slow and even, and if she did feel the coarse fabric of his cloak against her flesh, she did not show it. Her grief must have been great for her to slumber so deeply. And Cy watched her lids flutter as stone could not.

This

was real.

Not the sacrifices by knife and fire, not the chaste words of the priests, not the quiet statues in the Acropolis, staring with unseeing eyes.

This.

Though the night was growing colder, so far from the lively city streets, he folded his legs underneath himself and waited for her to rouse. He'd be an incredible fool to leave her alone. What if stray partygoers ambled through the woods and found her? Could she defend herself in such a state? It didn't seem so. Cy considered that he might be presuming too much, and she knew all the things that transpired around her.

When she began to rouse, he could sense it before she ever moved. The very air could sense it too, because the little dancing lights returned to hover around her, formless blue wisps that gravitated to her great presence. This time, when her lids fluttered, they opened to wide and apprehensive golden eyes. Her lips quivered as if she were a mute on the verge of speech.

Cy shied from her scrutiny, hands open to show he meant to harm. "You are safe."

Tears sprang to her eyes and she sat up, the cloak falling around her waist. She had no sense of modesty at all, it seemed, but she clenched the hem with restless fingers. "You are a mortal."

He issued a little smile. "I suppose I am. My name is Cy. What is yours?"

"Teletê," she said without hesitation, pressing the tears away with the heel of her palm. "Are these your woods?"

His smile grew. "No. Not mine.

"Not anyone's but the gods."

When he said the word 'gods', she flinched.

Cy was afraid that he might have offended her, and he picked his next words with care. "I- found you naked in the woods and couldn't leave you so. I thought you might want to be warm."

She glanced down at the wine dark cloak, still fussing with the hem. "Thank you for this."

"Do you need help?" Cy asked, wanting to draw closer to her radiance. He stopped short. "You were running from something, weren't you?"

When her eyes turned up to him again, they were heavy with misery. She bit her trembling lip before throwing herself against him, linking her slender arms around his neck. Stunned, Cy merely held her in return, marveling at the velvet flesh of her back.

She buried her face in his shoulder like a child, afraid. "I can't go back- I can't-"

"You don't have to," he said with a laugh, the closeness bringing him nearer to bliss than any embrace before. "You can stay with me, if you want." What was he saying? "I can protect you."

Something in her form stiffened, and she pulled back to look at him. Her expression was open, that sorrow only accentuating her charming features. "You will?"

He nodded without thinking. "My father will surely help-"

"No," she said straightaway. "It is terrible enough that you have seen me. I cannot allow another mortal to lay witness, nor can the accursed sun lay its rays on me, or my cousin will surely-" She stopped herself, going all but blank. "No mortals, I beg you."

Cy did not know what it meant to give a goddess his word but he did not hesitate. "I will keep you safe, Teletê. From man and the sun and the stars, if you require it." He dared capture her cheek with a cautious hand. "I will keep you safe."

For the first time, a smile graced her features, and he felt his whole world shift. She stroked his bottom lip, alighting something magnificent inside of him. "Thank you, Cy."

*

Cy did well to sober his expression.

He had little trouble carrying her through the woods, her form solid and airy all at once, impossibly weightless yet still tangible and real. They were headed towards one of his father's properties that had been recently vacated. It would be the perfect place to keep her hidden.

Her voice was a gentle thing when she whispered, "You are not pledged."

Cy did all he could not to stumble. "I am not."

"Perhaps," she said slowly, guiltily, "that is why you are so willing to aid me. If you only knew..."

He observed her with new eyes. She was still as radiant as the moment he first laid eyes on her. "I cannot imagine you would do anything so terrible that I would not wish to aid you."

Her smile held no enthusiasm.

"Are you cold," he asked, shifting so the cloak covered her bare shoulder. "Do you feel the chill?"

"I do but I am not wanting," she said in turn, sighing against him. Her fingers traced the strong ridges of his knuckles. "It has been a long day."

Cy kept a distant focus on his feet but it felt as if the whole world was in his arms, and little was left for the journey. He did not want to urge her to speak if she were not willing, so he remained silent in the cacophony of night creatures. Where they touched, she filled him with warmth that manifested into desire.

He pushed it deep down so it would not leak into his actions.

Cy wouldn't dare to become one of the unfortunate mortals of the stories. No good came from falling in love with the divine. That much, he knew.

"Am I keeping you from your family, Cy?"

His name on her lips was a pleasure. "They will not miss me, tonight."

"Tomorrow, though, they will." She said it as a matter of fact, her handsome brow furrowing. "And the day after and the day after that and, oh, you must not squander your time with me!" Teletê's gaze scoured his face. "You are so young."

"And you are not?" His lips turned up. "We will see what the future holds but tonight, I will make good on my promise. Do not take that from me, beautiful Teletê."

She observed him with more wisdom than her face or form let on. "It never ends well."

With that, his joy evaporated. "No, it doesn't seem to."

She gave a little 'hmph' and settled against him. After a time, she spoke again. "You are so kind, fair Cy. It is only fair that you receive an explanation."

Cy remained silent.

She continued as if she already had his permission. "I was made to usher followers to my father's worship, and nothing else. I didn't even choose to be born the way some gods are."

It surprised him. "You can

choose

to be born?"

"Not me," she said, pouting. "My mother didn't choose me, either. She was asleep when my father came to her, and when she woke, she was pregnant. But she was only a nymph, and no one can deny a god when they desire someone. That is the trouble of it all.

"We can not truly know love without devotion."

Cy thought on it. "It must be an incredibly lonely affair."

She only shrugged.

The trees broke to reveal a modest dwelling of wood and stone on an untilled field. The lamps inside were dark, the home appearing hollow. When they entered, a fine layer of dust had already accumulated on vases and decorations the previous tenant had not taken with them.

He let her down on the tile, fighting his instincts to keep her close. "We should not expect visitors for some time." He searched the space for flint and tinder, finding what he needed to start a fire in the hearth. "Do you hunger?"

Teletê drifted through the old building, her midnight hair sweeping the floor behind her, though it caught no dust. She fell languorously into a low divan, watching his movements in a muted fashion. "You've not studied under the priests, have you?"

"I'm afraid I haven't," he said, striking the white stone against an iron poker. The sudden ignition bloomed into a searing warmth before settling to something tame.

"That is why you have not chosen a deity?"

"No." He lingered on the thought, sifting the firestuffs until they burned on their own. Cy still couldn't look at her, afraid of her sensuous draw. "Believe me, I would have been done with it years ago. It is in my best interest to choose one, and promptly." He paused, battling that unwelcome fear, regrettably frozen with his gaze cast to the floor. "None of the gods ever called to me the way the priests described.

"They said I would know it when I cast my gaze upon their visage."

Cy's cheeks burned, realizing it had happened in those quiet woods, not an hour past. But this Teletê was entirely unknown to him.

"Look upon me, then, and tell me you feel nothing," she said, rising from the divan.

Cy took a breath, then set his gaze on the cloak fallen around her feet. His mouth went dry as he panned up, over her perfect calves, and then stopped at her dimpled knees. "I am frightened."

She drifted towards him, barely touching the floor. A hand rested upon his head, sending warmth like melted wax down his spine. "You were not afraid in those woods. Do not be now, for I need a friend, this night."

Her words made him nearly prostrate himself at her feet.

And, as he feared, when he looked up into her golden eyes, he lost a little more resolve. "Beautiful Teletê," he couldn't help but say. "Whatever you wish, it's yours."

There was a sadness in her expression, and her internal light dimmed slightly. "There is the devotion I spoke of. Who are you, Cy, when divinity's grip is gone?" She knelt and captured his face as if he were a delicate thing, blinding him with dreadful pleasure. Her lips closed in, hesitating in that brief space before contact. "You have so much love to give, and yet you horde it all to yourself. I can feel it aching to be released."

Cy was too frightened to close the distance but every fiber of his being demanded it. He didn't know when but he'd caught her slender shoulders, an unforgivable offense to her delicate form. When a sliver of resolve returned, he took himself back. "The gods, they would-"

Lights bloomed in his sight when she captured his mouth with hers, her willowy strength overcoming him until his back was to the floor. His breath mingled with a goddess', and he tasted the divine. Teletê's light soaked into his flesh as she hovered over him, weightless.

She caught his jaw, her touch as gentle as her visage. "Do not fear their wrath, Cy of Athens, and be mine this night."

Cy, summoned as he was, kissed her palm in reverence.

Her delicate fingers pushed his tunic open and chased fire to his core. Their eyes were locked together, redwood and gold. Their lips met again, and he inhaled her next breath, tasting life, itself. Somehow, he was naked beneath her, with her silk form sliding up his leg.

He was already hard, like the creature he was.

But she didn't seem to mind. In fact, when she surged against him, she crooned at his length and beamed up at him. Her form was an untamed thing, the weight of her drifting in their shared fervor, her hair suspended as if in water.

Her perfect heels linked around his knees as she thrust against him, the tip of him pressing against the heat of her core. That, alone, could break a man. He clenched as if to urge himself inside her and her soft laugh flitted against his ear. "Patience, my love."

My love

.

How it set him to tremble. If she were not a goddess, he might have lost himself already in the throes of passion. As it were, he was at her mercy. The thought spurred his heart to race, and his hot lips found her cool ones once more.

Her kisses trailed to the stone at his neck, then down, to the hollow of his throat. He arched, realizing he no longer felt the floor beneath him. He did not sense the fire's heat, either, only her ethereal warmth.

Teletê traced the lines of his chest, over his tight stomach and the crest of his hips, marveling at him with her golden gaze. How could she adore him this way when she was, in contrast, flawless?

That's when the pressure of her became greater. Her heat melted over him, tightening around his girth so that his whole body became rigid in expectation. She must have seen the fright in his gaze, allaying it with a gentle laugh. She caught his rough hands and fitted them over her breasts, the pristine nipples already hard like a human's. Like his.

"Do you not want this?"

His lips were parched again, without the softness of her lips, and he nodded feverishly. "I do."

She teased, sliding further onto him before withdrawing slightly, the absence of pressure nearly making him weep. "Show me."

Purpose flared and he barreled in with her permission. She arched with a jubilant cry, closing the distance between their hips. Anchored to her, Cy picked up pace to an even rhythm.

He swirled her pearled nipple around his tongue as he thrust.

Teletê kissed the top of his head in reverence, waking him to the miracle of her existence. He glanced up and pressed his lips to her soft neck, reaching her end before withdrawing. She was so tight, it made his toes curl and his breath ragged.

She laughed again, a bright, tinkling sound that was cut off by a sweet gasp.

This Teletê might be a goddess but Cy found himself reveling in the knowledge that he could still mold her to him. And how malleable she was, locked against him, urging him deeper, harder, until even she was breathless.

They spun in a slow rotation.

Sometimes she was beneath, other times, she rode him with the greatest fervor, neither losing pace in the open air. He dipped his head to her shoulder and let his lips linger in the hollow. Her wandering hands tightened around his thighs as if she was ready for him.

And his body responded in kind, as devoted as he.

Ecstasy tightened his core, causing him to shiver before releasing himself inside her. Cy went blind, again, tasting her soft skin. Her mewl was sweet in his ear as she clenched around him, taking all of him in before he softened.

They drifted for a long while after they'd finished, still fastened at the hips. His skin cooled and she rested her head against his chest, a smile playing about her soft mouth.

When his eyes cleared, he realized they were floating several hand-spans off the floor. Vertigo gripped him, and if it weren't for her, he'd have fallen to the tiles. This Teletê was a marvel in and of herself, and he had barely begun to discover her.

Cy threw his head back in delight, clutching the sleeping goddess closer to his open heart.

*

Teletê skirted the cast rays of sun on tip-toes when she set to wander the house. Cy lay spent on the divan well into the afternoon, wishing he'd brought food, though he only craved the mouthfeel. In her presence, he wanted for nothing, not even water.